


Off Message

by HighHopes (wicked_writings)



Series: The Xarry Files [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Butt Plugs, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, Feminine Harry Styles, Handcuffs, M/M, Mention of smacking causing bruising, Multimedia, Polyamory, Rimming, Sex Toys, Unsafe Sex, Winstyles is hinted, Xander and Ben co-parent Harry and share custody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22647370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked_writings/pseuds/HighHopes
Summary: In which Harry shouldn't make promises he can't keep, and gets what’s coming to him.Inspired by the Sara Lee skit on Saturday Night Live.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Ben Winston, Xander Ritz/Harry Styles
Series: The Xarry Files [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629169
Comments: 16
Kudos: 58





	Off Message

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a short and smutty fic about Harry getting railed to death by Xander, but I’m not sure what happened to that fic so you get this one instead. 
> 
> This is part one of a series, in which I hope to post a couple of times a month. The fics will be part of the same universe but not necessarily carry on from each other. They are unlikely to be as long as this story.
> 
> As always, apologies to the real-life namesakes, and the Sara Lee skit belongs to Saturday Night Live.

After it was all over, Xander wasn’t sure who was more relieved – himself, as Anxious Boyfriend #1, or Harry, who had nervous-peed at least 4 times in the half-hour leading up to show time. In the end, Harry had come off stage beaming ear to ear, his face lit up, and dragged Xander into a hug that had lasted for longer than it should have, all things considered, before throwing his arms around Ben and nearly crying. 

Relief turned to pride as he watched Harry being congratulated by the cast and crew and the friends that had come along to support him. Hosting SNL was a pretty big deal and Harry had smashed it, every second of it. He was so fucking proud of him it was hard to not scream it at everyone in the room but he restrained himself and acted like the adult his driver’s license said he was. 

Backstage there was drinking, awkward and not-so-awkward mingling, some more drinking, and a quite frankly _fabulous_ cake that Harry had commissioned of the SNL set. He lost track of Harry after a while, choosing to stay close to Max and Kath and chat to a few of the writers, none of whom had blinked an eye at Harry’s decision to have Xander stick with him on set for the entire week. He wondered what else they had seen in the course of their jobs, and if they’d ever tell. 

Eventually the party began to wind down, for which Xander was somewhat grateful. It’d been a hell of a long week and he felt like he needed to sleep for another week to get over it. It was 3am in the morning before people began to disperse, mostly to other parties, and he hadn’t seen Harry for over an hour. He knew that Harry was with Ben, so he wasn’t worried, but Harry was bound to be exhausted by now. 

Just after he made up his mind to go looking for them, his phone buzzed in his pocket against his leg. The particular vibration told him it was a text from Harry and not anyone else, and Max gave him a knowing grin as he slipped away to check. 

He thought for a moment that Harry had sat on his phone again, but it seemed a little too specific for that. The sequence looked deliberate, and given the time of the night and his lack of sleep it took him a while to realize that it was the set of emojis from the Sara Lee skit. The same skit that Harry had been trussed up in a harness for, and had pranced around the studio in for far longer than what the shoot called for. Harry had bought one off the internet before they’d even made it home that night. 

Xander wasn’t sure what Harry thought he was doing, but he supposed he thought he was being clever. He was getting too old for this sort of carry on. 

Well. If he wasn’t sure what Harry had been hinting at before, he sure as hell knew now. He was trying to think of something that said ‘love the idea, but please let’s sleep first, I’m old and tired’, when a pair of arms snaked around his waist. 

“I mean it,” Harry slurred against his back, where he was trying to do his best impression of a baby koala. 

Xander sighed. “I know. It’s late though. Let’s just go back to the apartment, yeah?”

“Mmmm. Okay,” Harry breathed, and Xander figured he was about 10 seconds from passing out. 

Harry was spared the indignity of sliding off Xander and onto the floor by the timely arrival of Ben, who had been following him. Between the two of them and a trying-but-not-really-helping-hand from a mostly drunk James they maneuvered Harry out to the car and into the backseat, where he ungracefully collapsed nose first into the leather with one long leg literally out the window.

“I’ll take one side, you take the other,” Ben suggested, and they manhandled Harry upright and squished him in the middle for the drive home. Harry perked up a little and Xander rolled his eyes at what he knew was coming.

“Pretty sure I had a fantasy about this once,” Harry said. Xander just sighed. Harry glanced from Ben to Xander to see if his unsubtle suggestion had caught on, the cheeky grin on his face attesting to his hopefulness.

“I think I liked you better when you were unconscious,” Ben muttered. 

Harry’s hand twitched in his lap. “Don’t even try,” Xander warned.

Harry sulked, slouched in his seat, and went back to sleep.

*

Harry slept like the dead that night, tucked up under Xander’s arm, his back against Xander’s chest. He always snored a little louder when he was exhausted, and if it was anyone else Xander would have pitched a fit. But somehow he was endeared to almost anything Harry did, even when he was being an annoying little shit.

Being tired, overworked, or generally just feeling like he wasn’t getting enough attention was enough to tip Harry over into brat territory, and it happened often enough that Xander knew whether to he ought to ignore him, make him go to bed, or quite frankly, smack him out of it. That day ended up being a grin-and-bear it sort of day, because none of the above options were really available. 

There was a photoshoot at some place in Brooklyn just after 2pm later that day, and trying to get Harry out of bed and washed was testing Xander’s patience. Harry had woken up in a mood and seemed determined to be an utter brat, at one point storming out of their bedroom buck naked. Xander didn’t bother going after him. Ben hauled him back in again a minute later, one arm around Harry’s waist as he held him against his chest, his pink-tipped feet dangling just off the floor. Harry scowled furiously at the both of them, the effect lessened slightly by the fact that he was still as naked as the day he was born. “Shower?” Ben suggested, ignoring Harry’s outraged splutter, and Xander led them into the ensuite bathroom.

It was a bit like bathing a cat – a snarling, vicious cat with a death wish - but between them they had Harry pink-cheeked and clean in time to leave the apartment without being late. The bathroom was soaked and some of Harry’s towels were ruined, but Cecily, their most favourite and patient house keeper, would make it look like Cyclone Harry had never happened by the time they were due to return. 

Ben had to get back to LA and had a flight to catch, so they left him at the curb outside the apartment climbing into a taxi the doorman had hailed. Harry stared back at him miserably, his cheek pressed to the car window, watching as Ben faded into the distance. 

“You’ll see him in like, a day,” Xander pointed out, ignoring the twist in his gut at the thought that meant they had only a day left together before Harry was leaving again. 

“I know,” Harry sighed, and shifted away from the window. He curled into Xander’s lap, ignoring his twisted seatbelt. “Sorry for being stupid before.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Xander said, running his fingers through Harry’s curls. “I’m used to it.”

Harry huffed against his thigh. They were silent for a while, until Harry voiced the thought that had probably been behind his earlier bad mood. “Do you think people liked it?” he asked quietly, sounding nothing like the confident, outgoing rockstar/actor/model/social media manager he had been the night before. 

Xander didn’t tell him that that was what he had checked when he had first woken, before Harry had even started to stir. He’d seen first-hand how good Harry had been on SNL, but people could be cruel, no matter how sweet and kind you were. 

“They did like it,” he said honestly. “I checked Twitter and the reviews. You did great, babe.”

Harry sighed heavily, and Xander thought he saw his shoulders relax a little. Harry didn’t ask anything more, and Xander let him be, staring out the window as New York rushed by. 

*

Xander used the time at the photoshoot to clear the barrage of texts and emails on his phone. He’d gotten less work done the previous week than he’d hoped to, mainly because watching Harry rehearse for SNL was a hell of a lot more interesting than spreadsheets and charts. One of the assistants at the shoot had found him a spot where he wouldn’t be in the way but could still see Harry, and he made himself comfortable. 

They’d been there for over an hour when his phone buzzed. He absentmindedly flicked over to the new text, his mind still focused on Excel. 

He blinked. _What the…_ He barely had time to process the first text before another one came, just as weird as the first. 

Quite honestly, he was starting to get a little confused. Harry had sent him drunken texts before, but they usually involved inexplicable spelling and random emojis. Harry had even sent him a few things while on Ambien, all of which were an experience in themselves, but this was a language he wasn’t familiar with. 

He glanced up at Harry, who was steadfastly refusing to look at him, which meant he knew perfectly well what he had done. He couldn’t even ask Harry to explain, because he was being asked to pose again, and Xander saw him slip his phone behind a prop on the set. 

So he did the rational thing, and texted Ben, because Ben was really the only other person who could ever decipher Harry, who knew how to handle him and talk to him and understand him. And when he needed a smack instead of being sent to bed, or vice versa.

Ben was on a plane somewhere, but Xander knew he wouldn’t have turned his phone off. He was a chronic workaholic and probably doing the same thing as Xander had been before he was rudely interrupted – clearing emails. He only had to wait a couple of minutes for a reply. 

Just because Ben was in a plane and not the one having to deal with Harry in person didn’t mean he got to laugh at Xander’s misfortune. Xander glared at his phone, cussing out Ben in his head while trying not to acknowledge that he would have been just as helpful if it was him on the other side of the conversation. 

He felt like maybe there was something here he was missing, and he refused to make himself feel stupid for not knowing what it was. Ben was older than him, only by a few years of course, but his job meant that he was far more in the know about the internet’s in-jokes than Xander could ever hope to be. 

Oh.

Oh God.

He remembered the string of emojis Harry had sent him the night before. The very specific sequence of emojis. He remembered the harness, and the one that was apparently in the post, and that he hoped wasn’t accidentally sent to a neighbour instead. He remembered Dylan the chaotic bottom being the character most similar to Harry himself, the one Harry could relate to the most. He wasn’t sure what this meant in the bigger picture and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. 

Ben was right, goddamn him. Harry was probably only going to get worse. It’d happened before, after all. In the early days he’d indulged Harry instead of heading him off, and then had to deal with the consequences. It had taken some education from Ben in how to deal with Harry before he’d learned how to read the signs. 

Xander still had most of a day left with Harry before he was on a plane back to California, and back to Ben’s. By then, Harry would be insufferable and demanding things from Ben that a workaholic with a newborn, a toddler and a wife might not appreciate. Xander guessed that Harry’s moment of self-awareness in the car earlier had been short-lived. 

Ben already had a baby, Xander figured he didn’t need another one. The man had enough on his plate as it was.

Having sold his Hollywood Hills house, Harry lived with Meri and Ben while he was in LA now. This was essentially no different to what had been happening for years anyway – the mansion had always been too big, too empty, too cold for Harry, who needed people he loved and trusted around him to feel happy and safe. Ben’s house had been his refuge while he was in LA, and he’d had a bedroom of his own there since the day Ben and Meri had signed the paperwork. Everything was just a little more official now. 

Ben worked hard to keep Meri and Harry in the manner in which they were accustomed. Xander figured he could ease the pressure a bit. 

He would give Harry more than a hug of course, but Ben already knew that. He wondered if Ben was regretting having to leave so early, but a part of him was glad that he got to have Harry to himself one last time before Harry had to leave for his promo commitments in LA. 

The photoshoot was beginning to wind up, and Xander hadn’t even replied to Harry. Harry didn’t take being ignored very well, and Xander had to think quickly to avoid another tantrum coming on before they got home. To tell the truth, it wasn’t hard. He knew Harry’s buttons by now. 

He sent the text and went back to his work, as if nothing was amiss. He heard Harry’s phone _ping_ , and out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry turn towards it, before a wardrobe assistant was suddenly up in his face, far too eager to get Harry Styles out of his clothes. Xander returned to his spreadsheets, and waited. 

*

He refused to check the reply when it came, knowing perfectly well it would infuriate Harry, who was most pleased when he had Xander’s – or Ben’s – full and undivided attention. He carried on with his work for a few minutes, trying not to show on his face how amused he was when another text followed a couple of minutes later. He dragged it out for another minute, wanting to push Harry’s buttons but not push him over the edge – not while they were in public, at least. 

Well, that wouldn’t do. 

Satisfied with Harry’s response, he finished the last piece of work he was working on and tucked his phone away. They did have a long night, and then tomorrow Harry was gone again, and he decided he wasn’t going to miss any more of him. 

*

There was a quick debrief after the shoot with Jeff and Molly and a few other members of Harry’s entourage, about what was happening the rest of the day and tomorrow when they were all due to meet up again in Los Angeles. Then Jeff was handing Harry over to Xander and promising to meet them for dinner before the concert that night, before heading off with Molly to undoubtedly plot the next part of Harry’s journey to taking over the world. 

Harry was quiet, and lay his head against Xander’s shoulder in the lift as they went down. “Tired?” he asked him, pressing a gentle hand to the small of his back. 

“Mmmm. I’ll be fine,” Harry said. “I’ll be good, like I promised.” 

Antony, Harry’s bodyguard for the day, was in the lift with them and most certainly heard Harry’s comment, but it was a testament to how professional he was and how he had likely heard far worse that he didn’t move a muscle or so much as move his eyes their way. Xander appreciated his tact, but still wasn’t keen on Harry taking advantage of that. He pressed his hand against Harry’s back a little, a subtle warning. 

Harry didn’t look impressed, but Xander didn’t care. 

*

They had a couple of hours before they were meeting the others for dinner, so Xander suggested the one thing – other than sex – that he knew would make Harry happy. 

“Madison Avenue?” 

Harry’s big eyes said it all. 

They started at Lanvin, Harry’s new favourite. Xander was well used to Harry’s love for fashion by now, and didn’t even mind playing the role of long-suffering boyfriend as he watched Harry try on what seemed like every piece of clothing in the store. Truth be told, it wasn’t really that bad – Harry was just wonderful to watch, especially in a state of half-dress, and no-one could be upset at his obvious joy at being surrounded by beautiful clothes. 

Once the assistant realised that Harry blurred the boundaries when it came to clothes, she began bringing him a range from the women’s section. One was a beautiful burgundy dress with an asymmetrical hem, and Xander watched Harry touch it delicately before slipping into it carefully. Xander’s heart bumped a little in his chest as he watched Harry stare at himself reverently in the mirror. 

“What do you think?” Harry asked shakily, his hands smoothing down the silk with the touch of a lover caressing their beloved. 

“I think it looks beautiful,” Xander said. “You look wonderful.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Xander said firmly. “It suits you. I like it on you.”

Something in his words seemed to give Harry confidence, and he grinned before spinning on the spot. The material drifted out and swirled around him, making him look ethereal. “I like the way it feels,” Harry said. 

“You’re getting that one, sweetheart.”

Harry didn’t need Xander’s permission to buy clothes, they both knew that. But Xander knew that Harry still sometimes needed that push, needed to know that it was ok, that other people wanted for him what he had wanted so long for himself. 

They left Lanvin with the dress, wrapped in silk paper and laid gently in a sea blue Lanvin box tied with black ribbon. Antony packed the boxes away carefully in the back of the car before they visited Missoni and Alexander McQueen. 

True to his word, Harry behaved impeccably. Xander guessed that he was tempted to push the line but he was almost too well behaved, not even suggestively asking Xander to undress him the way he’d once done in a high end boutique in Paris in front of a scandalised shop assistant. 

By the time they had finished Harry had spent nearly $17,000 on clothes, shoes and make up and Xander was feeling light-headed. He had no recourse – he had been the one to suggest it in the first place after all. He supposed he ought to have been used to the way Harry had a different way of spending money by now, but there was still something slightly foreign about the way Harry wielded his black card with such indifference. 

Harry never hesitated to spend money on Xander, and it had taken him a long time to stop protesting every time Harry had tried to do so – he hadn’t realised that it was one of Harry’s ways of showing affection and that he cared, his own way of providing for someone close to him. Xander had his own money, and though while he was far from broke his money paled in comparison to Harry’s wealth. It had taken him a while to realise that Harry wasn’t trying to say that he needed help, rather that it was just something he wanted to do, and that it made him happy. And Harry being happy was all that he ever wanted. 

*

Dinner was at some trendy upmarket hole in the wall, but Xander got to have something that resembled a burger for once so he forgave the godawful music and the depressing wall colour. Harry was thrilled with it of course. 

*

Harry had organised VIP tickets for Anderson Paak at Brooklyn Steel that night. They watched from a roped off area to the side, carefully positioned for a good view. It was dark and crowded and they weren’t overlooked, so Xander tucked Harry in front of him and wrapped his arms around his middle, pretending just for a little while that they were normal boyfriends and that World War Three wouldn’t erupt online if the conditions happened to be more conducive to having a photograph taken of them.

They went backstage afterwards, something that Xander now took for granted with Harry. At Michelin star restaurants, they would go into the kitchen to greet the chefs. At art exhibitions they had a personal guided tour by the artist. At concerts, they went backstage. It was just how it was. 

Anderson and Harry gushed over each other and Harry got waylaid by a few fans on the way out, always ridiculously happy to take photographs no matter the situation. Xander pretended not to be impatient. 

The others were going out for drinks, but all Harry wanted to do was go back to the apartment. He insisted he was tired and he probably was, but Xander knew perfectly well what Harry expected to happen and it had everything to do with a bunch of stupid emojis. 

In the car Harry practically sat in his lap, almost quivering with excitement like a teenage boy finally getting the chance to have a go. Xander steadied him with a hand on his thigh, and they spent the rest of the ride kissing while Antony determinedly refused to look in the rear-view mirror. 

*

The lift in their building opened straight into their apartment, something that Xander was currently exceedingly grateful for. Trying to negotiate a hallway alongside Gwyneth Paltrow or somebody with Harry attached to his neck probably would have made him die of awkwardness. 

Harry’s attention turned from Xander’s neck to his crotch the minute they were inside, making grabby hands in the general direction of his belt buckle. He detached Harry carefully, ignoring the pout and the big sad eyes that Harry always turned on when he didn’t get his way. “Go shower, ok darling? I’ll get everything ready.” 

At some point in their relationship the phrase ‘go shower’ had become magic, a prelude to sex that never failed to make Harry disappear in the direction of the bathroom impressively quickly. It was something that Harry preferred to do on his own and Xander always left him to it, knowing that if Harry needed him he’d ask. 

As Harry busied himself in the now-clean bathroom he stacked Harry’s new purchases in one of the spare bedrooms, where Harry could go through them when he had a chance and decide where each piece would live, if they would stay in New York or go with Harry or Harry L. to someplace else. While Xander had clothes in all of Harry’s houses and at Anne’s and at Ben’s, they were just enough to get by in and for Harry to steal and sleep with when he wasn’t there. Harry on the other hand had entire wardrobes all over the world. It was over the top, but that was Harry. 

He grabbed a few bottles of water from the fridge along with a pot of yoghurt and a tub of mixed berries, setting them down on the table next to Harry’s side of the bed before drawing the blackout curtains over the windows and pitching the room into darkness. By feel he found the matches and the row of candles on the side table, lighting them one by one until the room filled with a soft flickering light. From the bottom drawer in their walk-in-robe he took a few things, placing them in his bedside drawer where they wouldn’t be seen until he needed them. 

Harry hadn’t bothered to shut the door as he showered and Xander could hear him singing quietly over the sound of the water, maybe Etta James, or perhaps Ella Fitzgerald. He set up one of Harry’s favourite playlists to suit, and heard Harry switch to harmonise as the music grew and swirled around the apartment. He stopped and listened for a while, until the water switched off and let him know that Harry was almost ready. 

He settled on the sofa to wait and it wasn’t long before Harry treaded softly into the room, coming to stand shyly in front of Xander. His hair was still damp from his shower, beginning to curl as it dried. He was in one of Xander’s good business shirts, just the bottom three buttons done up, the material only just covering his nipples as it gaped open. The cuffs were open and loose and dangled over his hands, though Xander could see where his fingers were softly tugging at the hem. 

He was in a pair of Ben’s old track pants, ones that Ben had tried to reclaim before hastily giving in when Harry had snarled at him and snatched them back. They were a little too long for him and almost covered his feet, just his pink-painted toes peeking out. 

From this close Xander could see the tinge of soft blush on his cheeks, the hint of strawberry lipstick, the expertly applied mascara that lengthened his lashes. 

He was breath-taking. 

“Come here,” Xander said quietly, and guided Harry to stand between his knees. He ran a hand down his sides, leaning in to kiss at the softness of his belly through his shirt as Harry’s hands came to lie on his shoulders. 

He kissed up to his chest, lips pressed to his skin, and could feel Harry’s heart pounding just beneath the surface. The hands on his shoulders slid up to glide through his hair and clutched gently at the short strands. He rested his cheek against Harry’s chest, the two crosses cool against his skin where the rest of Harry was hot. 

“Take me to bed?” Harry asked quietly, voice brimming with want. 

“Of course darling.” Xander took his hand and let Harry pull him off the sofa and down the hall, the faint sounds of Nina Simone coming to meet them. Their room was lit only by the candles and the light flickered over the ceiling, casting shadows. Harry looked back at Xander, questioning. 

“Sit down,” Xander told him quietly, and without protest Harry did as he was told. “Good boy.”

Harry stared up at him, eyes big, trembling hands pressed into his lap. Xander could probably ask him to do anything and he would scramble to obey. Sometimes they explored that, but tonight didn’t seem like the right time, and Harry hadn’t asked for it. 

“You’re so pretty.”

Harry blushed, looking pleased, his hands relaxing. Xander cupped his chin, lifting his head just slightly, and bent to kiss his forehead. He could hear Harry sigh as some of the tension left him. “What do you want first?” he asked, because this wasn’t all about him.

“You,” Harry said simply, and waited for Xander’s nod before reaching out to the waistband of Xander’s pants. He rolled them down just enough to ease a hand in. Xander wasn’t quite hard yet, but that was never going to faze Harry, who rubbed him slowly through the material of his boxers before using his other hand to pull his pants down enough. 

There was something about giving blowjobs that made Harry go hazy, where it seemed that even just the thought of them made him hot. His face slackened and his eyes glazed over, and it was as if his sole focus became the person in front of him. Xander hadn’t had enough experience with other men to know if this was normal, but Harry L. had reassured him that it wasn’t, and that Harry had some sort of weird oral fetish. Xander didn’t exactly mind. 

Harry was currently looking at his dick like he wanted to get down on his knees and worship it – something he’d done many times before but Xander wanted to avoid the inevitable whinges afterwards about Harry’s g-d knees, so he made sure Harry kept his butt on the bed this time. He was about to ask Harry if he was going to do anything or just stare at it when he finally leaned forward and went straight to sticking it down his throat. 

Harry’s complete lack of a gag reflex was apparently something else that wasn’t normal according to Harry L., and like his oral fetish Xander certainly didn’t mind it. In a half-drunken state he’d once told Harry that after him no-one else – man or woman – was ever going to live up the glory that Harry brought while on his knees. Xander was pretty sure that Harry considered it one of his top 10 achievements. Maybe even top 5. 

He let Harry control the speed, his hands tucked into Xander’s waistband and bossing him around, pulling him in and out or making him stay still, whatever Harry felt like doing. Xander was just along for the ride. Every now and again Harry would pull free to lick around the head or play around the base of his dick, only to deep throat him again a moment later. 

Despite being raised in a church-going family Xander was pretty sure this was the closest he’d ever gotten to a truly religious experience. He looked down at Harry – face flushed, eyes bright with unshed tears, precum and saliva oozing down his chin – and wanted to praise God herself. Harry could do things with his tongue that were probably illegal in certain countries, and knew exactly what to do and how to do it to make the person on the receiving end weak at the knees. 

He let Harry sink down on him once more before sucking up every ounce of resolve that he had that hadn’t already gone to his dick and tugging Harry’s head away. “Jesus,” he muttered, and tried desperately not to give in the base urge that told him to come all over Harry’s face. Harry would love it, he always did, but they had other plans that didn’t involve Xander shooting off like he was 14 years old again. 

“Enough for now, I want to touch you.” Harry nodded and let Xander wipe his face with a tissue – not the most romantic thing but it meant that the spit and precum didn’t end up on the back of Harry’s hand and then on the bedcover, which was kinda gross. The bed would be bad enough by the end of it; they didn’t need to make it worse.

Harry settled back against Xander’s pillow and grabbed a spare one to shove under his hips. Xander got rid of his shirt and his pants so quickly he nearly fell over them, making Harry snort. “You’re so cute,” he rasped, his voice nearly wrecked already. 

“Shh,” Xander said, and rapped him on the knee. He sat down on the bed next to Harry and leaned down for a kiss, letting his hand roam over Harry’s chest, brushing against his nipples and making him gasp into his mouth. 

“I like you in my shirt,” Xander murmured, mesmerized by how the material had to jut out over Harry’s tits, they were so big. He ran his fingers around the curves of Harry’s chest, the feel of his body not dissimilar to his previous partners of the female variety. It was unspoken but he knew that Harry had wanted this, felt more comfortable in his body with these new curves. 

“You just like staring at my tits in it,” Harry pointed out, not at all looking displeased, and Xander didn’t bother to argue. He bent down to press his lips against each of Harry’s tits and thought about how they looked when they were encased in lace.

He slid his hands down to Harry’s waist and eased Ben’s track pants down his thighs, Harry lifting his hips to help. He didn’t bother to leave the pants on, they would just twist and get in the way, and he hoped Ben didn’t mind as he threw them somewhere over his shoulder. 

Harry’s panties were lace, black with red picot binding, and completely see through. They were made for men but he was already mostly hard and they were straining to cover him. They contrasted in the very best way to Xander’s formal shirt, and it was a look Harry wore the hell out of and one that Xander decided he ought to wear more often. 

A petulant whine from the top of the bed told him he had to hurry up, because someone was getting impatient. Deciding that the panties needed to stay on for now, he nudged at Harry’s hip to make him turn over. 

Harry looked just as good from the back as he did from the front. His ass filled out the panties better than any woman Xander knew would, another upshot of Harry’s insane new workouts. He admired the sight visually for a moment before deciding he could appreciate it by feel as well, and promptly grabbed each lace covered cheek. Harry squeaked before pushing his hips back, never that upset at being manhandled.

Xander let himself play for a few moments before pulling the lace down, letting the panties bunch up under the curves of Harry’s ass. One cheek still held a tinge of purple from a dying bruise, one Ben had put there nearly a week ago when Harry had been completely insufferable, out of his head with tiredness and a lack of attention and too many people telling him to do too many things in too many different ways. He’d ended up a sniveling mess afterwards but refused to leave either of them for the rest of the night, snuggled up to them like a kitten and as quiet as a mouse. Later, he’d made Ben promise to do it again. 

Tonight Xander just wanted to love him and/or rail him to death, which in Harry’s language was practically the same thing anyway. There would be bruises and scratches but the extra fun kind, and mutual orgasms all round. That was the plan, anyway. 

He thumbed at the softness of one cheek, opening him up just slightly, making Harry shift restlessly in frustration. “Patience,” Xander murmured, kissing his skin just close enough to make Harry even more agitated. 

“I want- I want, please,” Harry whined, kicking out one leg in Xander’s general direction. There was only way to deal with that and that was to sit on him, so Xander did. He had a better angle that way anyway, even with Harry’s squirmy long legs beneath him. This time he held Harry open with both thumbs, exposing him. He was soft and clean and pink and Xander leaned in to taste him, his tongue chasing the hint of strawberry from the lube Harry had used earlier. 

Much like Harry knew just how to press his buttons when he was blowing him, Xander had figured out pretty quickly what Harry liked when the favour was returned. He wasted no time in pushing deeper into him with his tongue, making Harry’s body jerk and forcing him to hold his hips still. He pressed a thumb into his rim, opening him further and giving him more to lick into. It began to get sloppy, spit running down his chin and down the curve of Harry’s ass, darkening the fabric of his panties. Xander licked even deeper.

Harry was gasping into his pillow, one hand clutching desperately at the rail of their headboard. He was trying to spread his legs further for Xander but the panties were keeping them together, tight now around his thick thighs. Without warning, Xander slid his pinky finger into him, licking around it, and Harry’s cock twitched where it was trapped beneath him. He spread Harry further and twisted his finger inside him before fucking him with it, deliberately avoiding his prostate. He ignored Harry’s efforts to make him go faster and deeper and abruptly pulled out before sucking at his rim again. 

Xander knew from experience that Harry could come from this alone if he kept it up long enough. It would be worth the sore mouth and jaw the next day just to see Harry shake himself apart on his tongue and fingers, and he was almost tempted to push it. He had plans though, and Harry was absolutely going to make an awful mess of his pillow if he didn’t take things in another direction soon. He eased his finger out slowly and sat back, admiring the beard burn currently blossoming pink on Harry’s soft skin. It would itch as it healed, but Harry always loved the reminder. 

Never one to be absolutely cruel, he rubbed the pad of his finger over Harry’s hole to give him some stimulation as he rummaged in his drawer for the things he’d put in there earlier. He pulled out a hand towel, a tube of lube and a pink vibe that Harry had nearly worn out but refused to get rid of. Harry was ruthlessly efficient at preparing himself but Xander always felt more comfortable if they spent a little more time on it, something that Harry probably didn’t need but tolerated for Xander’s sake. 

He drizzled the lube around his finger, pushing it into Harry’s hole to make sure it got where it needed to be. In an over-abundance of preparedness he used two fingers and then three to stretch him a little more before sliding the vibrator home, as always admiring the way Harry took it in so easily. He knew how taking his time was delicious torture to Harry and kept his thrusts steady and slow until Harry was gasping wetly into the pillow and his hips were rolling in a desperate attempt to find friction.

Without warning, Xander turned the dial at the end of the toy to the second highest setting. Harry wailed and slammed his hand onto the headboard, his hips stuttering as he dealt with the sudden onslaught of stimulation. Xander patted his ass in sympathy. 

“You’re not gonna come, are you?” he said, a gentle warning. Harry hiccuped before shaking his head. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“N- no,” Harry mumbled, only because he knew he had to. 

“Good boy. Remember your promise to be good.”

Harry had earned himself some decent thrusts, and Xander made sure to just graze his prostate, enough to give him a flash of pleasure but not enough to ride to orgasm on. The moans he pulled from Harry’s throat went straight to his dick, still hard despite the neglect. It was Harry’s turn for attention and it had just had to be patient. 

He kept a close eye on Harry, making sure he wasn’t getting too close while still trying to give him the pleasure he deserved. After a couple of minutes he jacked the toy up to its highest level, leaving Harry sobbing into his pillow and Xander’s dick throbbing in either sympathy or need. He teased Harry’s prostate for all of a second before turning the toy off and pulling it out carefully, tossing it onto the towel so the lube wouldn’t stain the bedspread. They’d ruined one too many already. 

Harry’s hole was gaping, wet and shiny and needy, and Xander was tempted to just go for it. Harry was making noises that suggested that he would be ok with that course of action, as if he wasn’t always up for it. Instead, he gave Harry’s cheek a pat and reached for the drawer by the bed, pulling out a small box that Harry obviously recognised, given his sudden gasp. Inside was a bejeweled butt plug, rather beautiful given that it was designed to be shoved up someone’s ass. It was made of stainless steel and the end of it was decorated with genuine diamonds, including one that literally spelled out ‘Princess’. Ben had bought it for Harry nearly a year ago and it was possibly one of his most prized possessions. 

Xander slathered it in lube and Harry helpfully cupped his ass to open himself up as Xander put it back where it belonged. Harry took it so sweetly, his hole stretching to accommodate the plug so well. Xander adjusted it so the word ‘Princess’ was on the level and sat back to admire his handiwork. Harry looked so pretty with it in, the diamonds sparkling in the candlelight and making him look almost magical. He always looked so satisfied when he had it in too, as if it was what he deserved – which, really, he did. 

It was a sight so sweet that Xander had to share. He posed Harry with a leg slightly bent so the diamonds were more visible, his ass looking fantastic with his lace panties still bunched around the top of his thighs. He framed the photo carefully, just a hint of Harry’s face with the focus on the plug. He took only two photos, chose the better one, and sent it to Ben via an app that would hold the photo for only a few minutes before deleting it permanently from both their phones. While it wasn’t 100% hacker proof, they had been sharing photos of Harry for over a year with no issues. They saved most of the photos to devices with no internet connections, and told absolutely no one. 

Ben texted him a moment later to let him know the photo had arrived, and that Harry looked beautiful, and to ask Xander to pass on a kiss. Xander was extremely happy to oblige and leaned down over Harry to press their bodies together as they kissed, his dick pressed up against Harry’s ass so tight he could feel the end of the plug dig into him. He rubbed up into him, pushing the plug deeper and making Harry moan into his mouth. It wasn’t until their kiss got a little too enthusiastic on Harry’s part that Xander realised that someone was about to mess their pants and it wasn’t him. 

“I don’t think so,” Xander said, pressing one last kiss onto Harry’s forehead and sliding off the bed. “You can stop that now.”

Harry sulked, the effect somewhat dulled by the pleasure high showing on his face. He was getting a little dozy, the way he always got when someone made his orgasms drag out, like he was perched on the edge with no way down. Xander took advantage of his sluggish compliance and pushed himself into his mouth again, one hand clutching at Harry’s hair to hold him in place. Harry took him without hesitating, instinctively swallowing around him and making him see stars. 

If it was anyone else Xander would feel bad about the way he was controlling Harry, his grip so tight his knuckles were almost white. But Harry loved it, encouraged it, wanted the pain that edged into his pleasure. With every tug he took Xander deeper, moaning around him. His hands were still free, so Xander kept a careful eye on them, making sure they weren’t wandering down to his panties. 

He let Harry go when he felt himself getting close. Familiar with the cue, Harry let him slip out of his mouth, strands of connecting saliva breaking and making a mess. Xander cleaned it up again, tossing the tissue away. 

“Roll over,” Xander commanded Harry, though he was almost breathless by now with arousal and nearly unable to get the words out. Harry understood perfectly well though and obediently turned onto his back, a jolt of pleasure making him shudder as the plug shifted inside him. He was dripping wet, the panties so damp and strained they were practically ruined. 

Harry had the remarkable ability to change his physique and size at will. Sometimes he was tall and muscular, all broad shoulders with big biceps and hard abs, other times he was tiny and delicate and baby, curled up in their laps needing reassurance and cuddles. Right now he was all long limbs and heaving chest and a waist so trim Xander was sure he could wrap his hands around him and have his fingers meet. He was so fucking beautiful, like he should be in a museum somewhere to be admired, and sometimes Xander had a hard time getting his head around the fact that Harry was with _him_ , wanted _him_ , when he could have any person on the earth. Sometimes he wondered how the fuck this was his life.

“Xander…” Harry pleaded, lifting a hand in supplication.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Xander stopped daydreaming and staring and climbed onto the bed. Harry asked for a kiss by pouting at him until he gave in, but it was reasonably short lived considering the state they were both in. 

“You gonna behave, right?” Xander asked him, settling down between Harry’s legs. When there was no answer he looked up, only to see a glint in Harry’s eyes that meant nothing good. “Harold.”

“I’ll be good,” Harry answered, in a voice that said the complete opposite. Xander pinched the inside of his thigh, a little reminder of his promise to behave. He swapped out the lube he was using for the toys with the Gun Oil he preferred for himself, and while he wasn’t watching Harry snuck a hand down his panties. That warranted a smack to his thigh, and the echo of it spiraled through the room. Harry pulled his hand out with a face like a child who had been caught stealing cookies. 

“Sorry?” he said, not sounding very sorry at all. Xander noticed that his hand was sticky and shiny, and sighed as he pulled it towards him to wipe it off with the towel. 

“I know what you want,” he said. His dick did too, which meant he was hardly upset. 

Harry looked proud of himself. “Is it working?”

Quite frankly, Xander was too horny to say no. He finished cleaning Harry’s hand and got up from the bed. “Don’t ever say I never do anything for you,” he threw over his shoulder as he headed for the wardrobe. He could hear Harry cackling behind him. 

The box he was looking for wasn’t kept in the bottom drawer with the rest of their toys. This sat in prime position with Harry’s jewellery on a special shelf, inside a simple white box that suggested nothing of what was inside. He wasn’t sure that the original designer of the particular item inside the box had intended it for the purpose that he and Harry used it for, but he had to have figured it was a possibility. Either way, Harry had paid an awful lot of money for the privilege of being restrained by a pair of silver plated Gucci handcuffs, and he wasn’t about to just let them sit on a shelf and look pretty for no return. 

Harry’s breath quickened at the sight of them, his eyes darkening. All it took was for Xander to open the box for him to place his wrists together above his head, arms stretched towards the headboard. They were both silent as Xander snapped them around his delicate wrists, the chain threaded around the bar in the headboard that had come in so useful so many times. 

“Thank you,” Harry said, his voice wavering.

“You’re welcome.” Xander kissed his forehead, and then each soft cheek. “But next time you should just ask.”

He made sure Harry was comfortable, both his head and ass propped up on what seemed like half their pillow collection. He slid another hand towel under Harry’s ass because that was a silk pillowcase dammit, and it didn’t deserve to be ruined in such a sordid way. 

He settled back down between Harry’s legs, his dick fucking aching at this point. He lubed himself as quickly as possible, afraid it was going to be over before it even began. Harry lifted his legs for him when asked, pulling his knees to his chest. Xander thought about pulling off the panties but decided that if they were going to be thrown out anyway, they might as well destroy them completely. He pulled them up Harry’s thighs a little more until he could reach the butt plug. 

“Relax baby,” he said, and Harry took a deep breath before doing just as he was asked. Fingers slipping in lube and precum and probably sweat, he eased out the plug before settling it next to the vibrator. Harry’s hole gaped open, wet and indescribably inviting. He trickled more lube over him before easing forward, one hand on his dick, another on Harry’s thigh holding his legs back. 

He heard Harry gasp as he rubbed himself over his hole, the head catching on the rim before sliding past. Harry huffed with frustration, just wanting Xander to get the fuck inside him already. Xander agreed with his sentiment. He stopped teasing and pressed himself inside, one eye on what he was doing and the other on Harry, who had gone still, his mouth open, eyes closed. He held himself steady and let Harry adjust to the stretch, even if he barely needed it these days. 

“Good?” he asked, forcing himself to be patient. 

“Good yes good very good,” Harry said, practically panting. His hands tugged at the cuffs, making the headboard jerk. Xander shifted inside him, making room where there was none just before. He eased out of him a little before fucking into him, not rushing, feeling Harry warm and tight around him. As always, it wasn’t enough for Harry. “Christ Xander you ca-“ 

Xander punched the breath out of him with a sudden thrust, pulling out nearly all the way before slamming back in again. Harry’s back arched nearly off the bed, even with his legs pressing him down. Xander gripped his hips and went for it as Harry howled, their bed shaking beneath them. If Harry wanted it like this, he got it. It was probably stupid to go this hard, neither of them were going to last, but it felt so fucking good he just didn’t care. 

It some point he heard the panties rip, Harry’s relentlessly shifting legs no match for their delicate stitching. His legs fell open, a scrap of material wrapped only one thick thigh, and finally Xander could press down closer to him, the angle better for slamming deeper into him. Harry’s cock was a hard line between them, the only friction coming from the movement between their bodies. Harry just needed to be fucked to come, so Xander left it alone to rub at a nipple instead. He lowered his head to take it in his mouth and suckle, Harry’s strangled moan letting him know how good it felt. 

He could feel Harry getting close, his hips pushing back into every thrust, his cock now a completely sopping mess between them. He wanted to watch Harry come and angled his thrusts to brush against his prostate every stroke, the pleasure and building pressure showing in the way he threw his head back against the pillow and the gasps he couldn’t hold back. There would be no more edging this time.

The headboard shifted and creaked as Harry pulled desperately at the cuffs, his orgasm stiffening his body and making him jerk. Xander fucked him through it until he slumped back against the bed, their bodies slick with his come between them. He could feel Harry still tight around him and lost all semblance of self-control.

“Inside me,” Harry pleaded when Xander started to pull out, trying to wrap his legs around Xander’s waist to keep him there - as if he could say no. He pushed himself as deep as he could, wrangling another moan from Harry’s throat, and bent down to kiss the hell out of him as he came before practically collapsing on top of him. 

“Jesus,” Harry muttered eventually from somewhere beneath him. He sounded out of breath and a little confused, conditions not unfamiliar to him. 

“I’m here,” Xander joked weakly in reply, perfectly aware he ought to move before he suffocated Harry but completely unable to do so. He kissed Harry instead, because that he could do. He was getting way too old for this shit. Next time, he was going to make Harry do all the work while he got to lie back and enjoy it. 

Harry shook his wrists so the chain rattled against the headboard. “When you’re ready then,” he grumbled, pouting at Xander until he sighed and rolled off him. They lay side by side for a short while, bodies touching, because even if they were sticky and covered in sweat, there was just something about really good sex that made them both want to cuddle. 

Eventually though, Xander had to concede that they were both becoming biohazards. The fun part was over. The gross part was about to begin. 

It was incredibly tempting to leave Harry in the cuffs so that Xander could clean them up without Harry’s “help”, but he knew from personal experience that it didn’t take long for shoulders to seize up and wrists to bruise. He unlocked the handcuffs and set them down the bedside table carefully before giving Harry a quick massage and checking the skin around his hands to make sure he hadn’t scraped anything. 

“I’m fine,” Harry said seriously, kissing Xander’s cheek. “Stop worrying about me and start worrying about the come that’s about to end up all over our sheets.”

Unbelievably, that didn’t pique Xander’s interest in the task at all. “You’re so romantic,” he said, not as sarcastically as he could have done. 

Ditching the condoms meant better sex, for sure, but it also meant more mess. And for some strange reason, he was the one who usually had to clean it up. Considering that Harry was the one who wanted to start going without in the first place, this seemed slightly unfair. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” he said to Harry, only half joking, as he did his best to mop up what he could with the hand towel. Harry just smiled back at him, and made absolutely no effort to help. Xander slapped his butt, which was hardly a punishment considering Harry’s usual preferences. He went back to tidying up before Harry decided they needed another round. 

The towels went in a bucket that he had shamefully bought for the exact purpose, the toys washed and put away, the ruined panties retrieved and thrown away, and Harry made less offensive with the judicious use of a packet of baby wipes. 

Sex was fun, but it came with caveats. 

By the time he was done Harry was propped up in bed eating berries by dunking them in the yoghurt first. Xander could taste the sweetness on his tongue as he kissed him, and let Harry feed him some as if they were silly lovesick teenagers. The berries stained Harry’s lips red, a colour that looked good on him. 

“You look beautiful,” Xander told him, getting one of those radiant, transfixing smiles in return, the kind of smile that made him think of what Alexa had once said of Harry, that looking at him was like staring into the face of a lighthouse. He was just so lovely, and he was right there, in front of him. 

“I love you,” Harry said in return, and shoved a raspberry in Xander’s open mouth before he could return the sentiment. Xander glared at him as he chewed. They had been having a moment and everything. He took the opportunity when Harry had his mouth full to say it back properly, not letting Harry get in the way of himself this time. 

Harry’s blush was, as usual, ridiculously adorable. He buried his head in Xander’s shoulder, shy and bashful where just minutes ago he had been hot and demanding. Xander tucked an arm around him and rescued the berries before they spilled over the sheets. “Bed time, yeah?” he suggested, kissing Harry’s curls. 

“Yeah. Water, please?” 

Xander fetched him a bottle from the side table before dealing to the candles and slipping back into bed. He made sure Harry had finished the water before letting him lie down and demand his usual post-sex cuddle. 

Fuck, he was gonna miss this. He had long ago come to terms with the fact that Harry was a human whirlwind, forever going from place to place, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He tugged Harry closer, the better to breathe him in. 

“In the morning,” Harry said sleepily, “I wanna blow you before I leave.”

“Alright darling,” Xander said. Like he’d say no. He was only human, after all.

“And then, when I’m gone… we can try that thing…” Harry trailed off, the words fading into Xander’s chest. 

“What thing?”

The answer was slow to come. “The thing thing. The thing you and Ben bought me.”

Oh. The thing thing. Xander had no idea what he meant. He and Ben bought so many things for Harry it could any one of a million different things. “Whatever you like, sweetheart.”

“Mmm… Xander?”

“Yeah?” 

A heavy sigh, and then nothing. Xander looked down. 

The little shit was asleep. 


End file.
